The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

You could probably learn something from them…

I sigh, and while Belle and John are away from the table, I busy myself by pulling my cell out of my purse and looking at my missed messages again.

The first thing I do is send Julie a quick text back.

Me: Great news about the caterer. Glad that pulled through so we didn’t have to ruin the bride’s wedding by serving the guests McDonald’s chicken nuggets. LOL. Meet me at the venue at 5pm tonight.

Once I hit send, my finger hovers over the one text exchange in my inbox that’s been on my mind since the moment I saw it this morning.

Yes or no?

Do I go to The Champagne Bar, or am I asking for trouble by messing around with a guy like Jude?

He’s not a commitment kind of guy, so I know what I’m getting myself into. Last night, I knew. And yet, I’m still here, questioning it all over again.

I reread his message.

Monday, 8 pm. The Champagne Bar, Plaza Hotel. Wear another sexy little dress.

So… which is it? More Jude-flavored fun on Monday night or the stability of the predictable?

I don’t even have to think about it.

Me: Okay.

And then I lock the screen of my phone and shove it back into my purse before I can give myself time to second-guess.

But my phone vibrates in my purse, and I can’t resist the urge to check it.

Jude: I still have your panties. And I’m keeping them, by the way.

A thrill of excitement creates a path of goose bumps up my arms. And his hot and dirty words are all the confirmation I need to stay resolute in my decision.

Sophie 2.0 isn’t going to obsess over the future. She’s only going to enjoy the present, and she’s definitely going to be at The Champagne Bar on Monday night.

If there’s one man who makes the present the most fun this girl has ever had, it’s Jude.

Monday, March 19th

Jude

A little before eight in the evening, I walk down the marble staircase that leads into The Champagne Bar. The room is calm and quiet, and besides the chatter from the Monday night regulars and occasional wealthy guests blowing through town for the evening, only the soft cadence of classical music can be heard in the background.

I make a mental note that the massive space is only half filled and grin to myself. Oh yeah, the atmosphere is ripe with the slow and anticipatory vibe I wanted when I told Sophie to meet me here.

This bar isn’t my usual place, but more of an occasional, every-great-once-in-a-while place that is a well-known and iconic New York spot inside the Plaza Hotel. Anyone who is anyone in this city has been inside these walls and experienced the sophisticated ambiance that is floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted by thick, luxurious curtains and large crystal chandeliers providing the right amount of lighting to keep guests feeling cozy without understanding why.

It’s also the perfect place to show Sophie how good being bad can feel.

I sit down at the mostly empty bar and pull my phone out of my suit pocket, setting it on the marble surface in front of me.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” the bartender asks, and I offer a small smile.

“A scotch on the rocks. Thanks.”

He makes quick work of my drink, and once he sets it down in front of me, the bartender moves on to a new customer who just found a seat at the far end.

After a quick sip of chilled scotch, I grab my cell to check emails and to make sure I didn’t miss any text messages. Inside my inbox sits confirmation from my assistant Macy regarding a consulting gig in Las Vegas for a nightclub called Electric. It hasn’t opened yet, but it will be nestled inside a popular casino on the Strip, and the investors are hoping to have their first soft opening eight months from now.

A lofty fucking goal, but not unachievable.

And this kind of project, where I’m simply consulting, isn’t as hands-on as what I’ve been doing at Club Craze. Instead of being there in person and juggling all the things, I’m the go-to guy when it comes to creating the plan of how to properly kick off and promote their nightclub. If I agree to work with them, they’ll tell me their strategy and I’ll tell them what they’re doing right, wrong, and give them fresh ideas to add an edge to their launch.

Basically, they’d be paying me to optimize their blueprints and give them my expert advice on everything from staff, setup, music, drinks, food menus, security, marketing, advertising, and the like.

To be honest, it’s a fairly cushy gig that always pays really well.

I quickly scan the email for all the pertinent details.

Yo Boss,

Everything is set for this week. There’ll be a private plane for you at Teterboro, and it’s scheduled to leave at midnight on Wednesday. A penthouse suite will accommodate your stay in Vegas, and because Billy and the rest of the investors are thankful for your last-minute trip (aka doing everything in their power to kiss your ass so you agree to help them), they’ve added a few extra goodies to show their thanks.